


Dear Heart

by thankyouandyou



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouandyou/pseuds/thankyouandyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir goes by many names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Heart

The wind speaks,  _come down_. Its whispers sneak between his fingers, kiss his hooded eyes.  _Come down_ , the wind says.

Never! he grins, spreading his arms. No eastern wind will manage what no man has.

 _And what is that_ , the wind asks. The wind loves him, the wind smiles, secretly patient. Indulgent.

Break my spirit, he replies.

He turns around to bright blue eyes, to the voice in the wind.

Won’t you come down, Agron sighs, arms crossed over his chest. You have stood there so long; I fear you will take flight.

In search of warmer climate? Nasir teases. The first few winters had been hard. It took a while to get used to the German cold, but now he barely feels it.

Agron’s ruined coat is flapping around him like wings. Am I a bird, gladiator?

You are a fool standing on a high wall with the winds howling around you like wolves. Come down, little man.

The name has lost whatever sting it used to have. The years gone by, it tastes like honey. It’s rarely used, saved for special occasions, for almost dying of pneumonia, for glorious summer evenings. Nasir wonders what sets this autumn sunset apart from the rest. He finds he doesn’t mind not knowing. Agron can find importance in the smallest of things, a fresh red apple, a well-paved path. A biting young slave called Tiberius.

Nasir crouches where he stood, on the narrow ledge, his back turned to the sunset now, his eyes on Agron’s face. It is not the safest way to stand on a high wall, but their lives haven’t been dangerous enough lately.

Call me by my name, Nasir whispers, smiling, just to be difficult. He sits, swings his feet over the edge. He looks up at the sky, its golden fading into blue. Wonders, faintly, how can it be they are still here. How did they fool the gods when they weren’t looking.

Little man, Agron hums. His fingers find Nasir’s ankle, the protruding bone there, and sweep over it once, twice. Nasir grins at the skies. My _name_ , he insists.

Come down, Agron says again, and his hand closes over the bone. Dear heart.

With a sharp tug and a cry, Nasir is pulled off the ledge. Agron catches him, graceless but sure, planned, premeditated.

You fuck! Nasir laughs, his lungs tight, his heart racing. Held above the ground by the waist, he winds his legs around Agron’s middle, lets Agron push him against the wall. They grin at each other. Agron’s hand finds his face, his thumb rubs over his eyebrow, a gentle sweeping motion.

Do not be where I can’t reach you.

There is sadness in this small sentence, the smell of incense and the afterworld. Nasir knows how deep the wounds lie, recognizes the bite of fear, but he won’t let Agron mourn them while they still draw breath, when the sky is golden still.

There is no place where you can’t reach me, he says.

Agron breathes out deeply. He rests their foreheads together. No place you can’t drag me back from, Nasir whispers, closing his eyes.

When he opens them again, the first stars are dotting the sky above their heads. He nudges his face against Agron’s like a lazy cat. Come on, he grins. Let’s go inside.

Agron’s mouth shapes a similar curve. When he looks at Nasir, his face is clear of shadows.

In search of warmer climate? he asks, taking Nasir’s whole weight in his arms, starting to walk them both inside, and the wind speaks,  _yes._

Nasir curls around him, tight, a human net, a promise.

 _Dear heart,_ the wind says.


End file.
